What had not yet come to pass
by EsmereldaGaladriel
Summary: What might have happened if just one small thing had been different? The subversion of the free lands, the death of half of the fellowship, and a new fellowship arising from the ashes of the old. The ring will be destroyed, but at what cost? K for negativity and death. Slightly book-verse, slightly movie-verse, slightly my own. AU because it is only a potentiality.
1. Chapter 1

I've always wondered what might have happened if only one thing had been different. I started this story. In case this doesn't make sense, this is almost the end of the story. I will put the rest of it in flashback. Please comment your constructive criticism, flames will be donated to Smaug. I own none of this except for possibly the story. Forgive me if any characters are out of character, as I do not have much experience.

Merry, Pippin, and Éowyn stood on the edge of the pit. Lava courses below, a slowly flowing river of gold. All that time, all that death, all that pain, it had all led to this. Éowyn held out her hand. The ring glimmered on its chain, the light seemed to form the pattern of tears on the golden band.

"It is time," Pippin voice only trembled slightly, frightened though he was, "Destroy it."

Éowyn trembled, as if about to turn, but kept still, neither turning back nor dropping the ring.

"It is so strong..." Éowyn's voice was weak and faint.

"It is your burden to bear. Remember the battle," Merry spoke more urgently that Pippin, fearing the worst.

"I cannot do this alone. It will not allow itself to go alone. It demands a price," she took a step forwards, her voice softening, a sad smile on her face,"Goodbye, my most beloved friends."

"Death!"

She shouted that word, as of screaming at the world that had so cruelly torn her parents, her brother, her uncle, and her husband away from her. She turned around.

"Death..." tears glimmered on her face as she took one last step backwards, and fell back into the volcano, holding the One Ring close.

"No!" a heart-rending scream burst from Merry as what had happened finally came through. He tried to run to the edge, but Pippin held him back.

"Merry, you cannot save her. None of us can," Pippin's voice shuddered, barely able to form words. He knew how much his friend had loved the white lady, but he could not let another friend die, "Merry, we have to go. We must not stay. Run!"

With that, he ran, pulling Merry after him. As soon as the ring had melted, the lava had started to swell. It came now rushing out of the mountain, as Merry and Pippin leapt on to a large outcrop, far above the lava flow. The great eye screamed in pain, before Barad-dûr crumbled. Little did they know that all beings loyal to Sauron, all across Middle-Earth, were dropping dead. When one becomes a creature of evil, a tiny bit of Sauron enters. As Sauron died, he took all of his devoted followers with him. Not those Orcs who had gone to the side of the alliance, not the easterlings and southrons who had joined the free peoples, but those that would ever remain a being of darkness. The diversion fighters on the plains of Gorgoroth suddenly saw their enemies falling before their eyes, and along the borders of Lindon the besieging hordes became a threat no more. The darkness had a last been defeated.

"Diamond would be there, unless she's still alive in the Shire. There would be sunshine, and a good party, like Bilbo's."

"What do you mean?" Merry snapped, still staring at the exploding mountain.

"Well, we're going to die anyway, so why not imagine what heaven would be like? It helps," Pippin said, in a tone that was slightly to bright to be genuine, "Anyway, Diamond would be there. We'd be dancing, and laughing. She would be as bright as ever. The Shire would be there, free and whole again. I'd see Frodo, and Sam, and Faramir and Éowyn, and Aragorn and all those who left us behind. There would be light, and all would turn to silver glass."

"That doesn't sound too bad, does it?" Merry tried to balance a smile on top on the tears.

"That's what I said to Gandalf before the battle of Pelennor. And maybe, hopefully, it will be true."

"I'm glad you're here, Pip. Only you could make this sound cheery," Merry winced as a drop of molten rock flew by, "Here at the end."

He lay back, beguiling pictures swirling in his mind. The Shire, Buckland, Estella, all that would be there. A shadow crossed, and he looked up to a pair of talons gently grasping him.


	2. Chapter 2

Again, all of this belongs to Tolkien except the plotline. If you are a bit confused, I started near the end, and this chapter is the beginning chapter. Please R & R, as more will be coming.

"Get a move on!"

Merry winced, preparing for the lash. The Orcs had come in the night, none were prepared. All had been either imprisoned or killed. The prisoners were being driven from Rohan to Gondor, and from there to Mordor. The lash came down. Éowyn screamed in pain; she had caught the blow for Merry. She stumbled, and fell.

"Stay with me," she had said, in Edoras when the Orcs had come, "I will protect you."

She seemed to think that it was her fault, that she might have averted the catastrophe by riding to battle. She would have gone to her doom, thought Merry, along with Théoden, Éomer, and the rest of the Rohirrim; slaughtered by the Witch-king.

He knelt down, put her arm around his shoulders, and helped her up. She smiled weakly.

"My strength is not what it was. Sorry."

She thought she had failed him. How? She had taken care of him, helped him through all they had gone through. They marched on. They helped each other if they were weak, and carried on. After many days, they joined the prisoners from Gondor.

"Get up! Get up!"

A man beside them had fallen, he looked weak, as if he had been injured, the driver had beaten him when he fell. Éowyn glanced around, and then grabbed the stranger's hand to pull him up.

"You're safest if you try and stay up. Stay by me, I will try to help you," she whispered furtively.

The man nodded, and called quietly to the one who had been walking beside him, who had been hooded.

"Pippin, come here."

Merry could not believe it. Thank Arda he was safe. Merry had long since given up hope of them ever meeting again.

"Pippin. Pip, it's Merry,"

Pippin drew back his hood. He looked haggard, as if the life had been drained from him.

"Merry?" Pippin looked shocked, "You look awful."

"So do you. A rider escaped and told us of the battle. Was it as horrible as that."

Pippin shook his head.

"Oh no. It was worse. Much, much worse than you could ever imagine," he gestured ahead, eyes bright, at the long, winding trail of beaten people, "The dead armies saved the city, but they came too late. So many died. All of them, all dead."

"I know. None of our riders survived. The king is dead, a brief life to the new king," Merry laughed mirthlessly, "There's a long road ahead, let's hope he does not last the length."

Éowyn studied the new man. He was nondescript; somewhat tall, not broad but not wiry, and moved quietly. He looked back often at Minas Tirith. He walked gingerly, with his arm held close. It had probably been injured in the war.

"Remember the patchwork of scars on my hands, very important," the man said.

Éowyn blushed.

"Was I that blatant?"

"No. Like you, I merely tend to observe," he smiled wryly.

"What would you say about me, then?"

"A lady, but one who fights. Perfect court mask, strong hands, old eyes. Subtle, too. You have lived in a cage, constantly being stepped over, protected though you need no help. On the outside; cold and alone."

"How do you know this?" Éowyn was taken aback.

Again, the sad smile came.

"Because it feels like looking in a mirror."

"Who are you?" Éowyn asked, curious.

"Faramir of the line of stewards of Gondor. And may I ask the same as you?"

"Éowyn, the white lady of Rohan."

They crawled painfully onwards, towards the jagged mountains.


End file.
